


They're Not Called Barracks

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Attraction, Flirting, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, clint is bad at flirting, shades of sexual harrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The history of the flirtation between Clint Barton and Phil Coulson, both oblivious and hopeless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They're Not Called Barracks

**Author's Note:**

> Rated teen for some swearwords and suggestive language. There's no smut.
> 
> This started because I wanted to write Clint being outrageous (and meaning what he's saying) and Phil being oblivious (assuming he's being a brat). Then it turned into schmoopy fluff.
> 
> Beta read by Dunicha as always :)
> 
> Clint's behaviour IS sexual harrassment, but Phil likes him so doesn't do anything about it other than endure it. This is not meant to be any sort of endorsement of that sort of behaviour.

 

"You wanna go back to barracks and fuck?"

 

In later years, when they wear matching sweaters at Christmas and make each other breakfast and all the other sickeningly cute couple-y things they become infamous for at SHIELD, Phil will claim he had no idea Clint was even gay, let alone after him. _Let alone_ able to pick him out of a line up of handlers. But Clint's always adamant that he was one hundred percent genuine in all his flirtations, right from the very start.

 

Phil had to reset mentally, he was so thrown, and anyone who knew him well (ok, Fury or Sitwell, perhaps) could have seen how completely floored he was by his impudent junior agent's question.

 

"They're not called barracks," he replied, cool as anything, ignoring Barton's eyeroll and hoisting a heavy bag that he'd later curse himself for not lifting properly. 

 

It becomes a thing, and Phil hates how much it gets to him every time Clint smirks and flirts and bites his lips at Phil. He wonders aloud how big and thick and juicy Phil's dick is, tries to make Phil agree to show him one day. "You show me yours, I'll show you mine," he says, and then he comes out of the shower naked and shows him anyway. 

 

Phil resolutely ignores him but doesn't do anything about it, because honestly - and it's pathetic - he likes it. He knows Clint's kidding around, pushing and pushing at Phil's boundaries like he has every other handler he's had, but Phil's not going to snap and he's not going to take him up on 'the blowjob of a lifetime' because he's better than that. And sure, he likes the attention, even if it is a joke at his expense. 

 

He doesn't acknowledge it at all. Clint runs around their hotel rooms naked, sprawls around his office commenting on how good Phil's desk would be to fuck on ("good height, pretty wide, sturdy. What d'ya say?") and Phil doesn't reply to any of it. He imagines himself a rock in a riverbed, weathering the constant stream of sexual innuendo.

 

They go on a mission - and that's the kicker, even after he's graduated out of the nursery pool, Clint's never not in Phil's rapidly thinning hair - and Clint goes off plan and saves the Black Widow, which is a headache, sure, but it finally, finally gets Clint's attention focused elsewhere. 

 

Phil's not jealous, except he sort of is, but he's ok with it because he can _breathe_. Clint gets put on spider-sitting duty and Phil gets to work with other agents who don't constantly throw a barrage of mental pornography his way. If he misses Clint he doesn't admit it to himself except when he's alone in his office and he realises he hasn't been asked how ‘it’s hanging’ in a while. 

 

But it's good to get back to normal. Clint's busy and so is Phil, and at least now he's not making his life hell anymore. Phil even gets set up on a few dates by well-meaning co-workers that nonetheless go down in his estimations after the dates turn out to be... well, they're fine really. But they're not anything like what he's after.

 

And what is he after? Phil puts his disinterest down to too much work, not enough time to bother with relationships anyway. It'd be unfair to expect someone to put up with his long hours and unexplainable absences, so he gets a houseplant and manages to keep it alive almost six months before it gives up the ghost.

 

By then, Natasha Romanov is a fully fledged agent, and whenever he sees Clint Barton it's in passing - as part of larger missions or just in the hallways, and he nods hello but nothing more. Gone are the lip-bites and sneers, the crotch-grabs and weird little grunts. Romanov is terrifying and brilliant, and she mellows Clint somehow, which Phil's glad about that even if there's some small part of him that misses the brazen awful version of Clint that used to make his life a somewhat pleasing hell.

 

Even when they do go out on missions together, Clint's the new polite version of himself, not even making the snarky small talk he used to throw around. It's a little unnerving, but Phil figures maybe he's matured. Clint gets him coffee and lets him have the first shower and is weirdly over-polite all the time but Phil doesn't comment on it, just lets Clint do what he's going to do, since he's pretty much always done that.

 

Clint starts bringing him dinner when he's working late, shrugging that he was in the cafeteria anyway and it's no big deal, and then ducking out of Phil's office as soon as Phil's taken it. Coffees appear on his desk in the morning when Phil gets in to work. Clint's paperwork is still as messy and scrawled upon as it ever was but it _exists. And_ it's on time. 

 

Phil doesn't know what to make of it, so he just does what he always does: assimilates the information and continues on with his life. It's nice having Clint around again, even if he is strangely quiet and eerily polite. He doesn’t think about it too much, just lets it happen. He lets Clint happen a lot, and he doesn’t let himself think about that, either.

 

Then there's London. 

 

Clint sits next to him the whole way there, flying commercial but first class, and he's like a kid in a candy shop with the free champagne and the filet mignon. Dazed and sated before they're even halfway to England, Clint's so sweet it makes Phil's heart ache  a little. Clint's always been a bit blown away by the things of excess that SHIELD can provide and wastes no opportunity he’s afforded to explore them. He's drunk by the time they touch down, but not so much as to be obnoxious, just grinning too easily at everything and leaning on Phil more than perhaps he needs to. Phil likes it though, and it hits him just how much he's missed Clint being around, how much he’s missed him being like this. He gets his mind back on the job though, even when Clint falls asleep leaning on his shoulder in the taxi. 

 

The mission is a success up til Clint almost falls off a building, and then Phil almost falls off another one, and then they both end up falling off the same building together, holding on to each other as they fall. There's gunshots and bits of roof and sirens everywhere, and there's a cut on Phil's cheek that he doesn't realise is there til Clint points it out, and they're still holding onto one another when he moves a hand to wipe it, holding onto Phil's face for longer than he needs to.

 

The sirens fade away and the guns go silent, and Phil feels time stretch before their mouths come crashing together, Clint tasting like blood and dust but all the more alive for it. It's a crystalline moment in time, perfect and shining and wonderful, and then whatever it is they're lying on collapses and everything goes dark.

 

Phil wakes up and knows he's alright because Clint's there, pacing back and forth. He's pretty sure they're still in London from the sirens outside. "Clint?" he says, because the last thing he remembers was something pretty awesome, maybe? Or a mistake. Probably a mistake, now he comes to think about it, but he can't find it in himself to regret it too much. Or perhaps he can, since Clint's stopped pacing and is looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

Before Phil can do or say anything else, Clint's gone and a nurse comes to talk to him, explaining everything's fine and he just has a broken arm and a couple of cracked ribs. He asks after Clint and she says he’s not let them see to him yet, not til Phil woke up.

 

Clint's quiet all the way home, back to his weirdly courteous self, and Phil doesn't know what to do about any of it. He's acting like nothing happened so Phil does the same. They get back and stiffly say goodbye, and then Phil doesn't see or hear of him for a week. There's no more coffee or late night dinners, and Phil puts it out of his mind as best he can until Natasha comes crashing into his office.

 

"What did you do to Clint?" she asks, pointing a finger at him. 

"Excuse me?"

"You could at least put him out of his misery if you're not interested." 

"What are you talking about?"

 

She sighs dramatically and makes fists of her hands before redundantly placing them on her hips. "He likes you, you know that, right?"

"Clint?" 

The way she closes her eyes is so long-suffering and put-upon that the sigh that accompanies it is unnecessary.

"I thought he was... He was joking, Natasha."

She shakes her head, but her stance softens. "He never jokes about you." 

Phil laughs. "I'm pretty sure he was joking."

 

Natasha doesn't say anything else before turning and walking out, shaking her head. 

 

Clint's shoved into Phil's office a few minutes later and the door gets shut behind him. He turns and tries to open it, but somehow it's locked from the outside.

 

He turns slowly and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, man."

"What's going on, Clint?"

 

"No, it's fine. Nat just- Look it's cool if you're not into me. Really. I'm not even. Just." 

He tries to open the door and it doesn't budge. "Do you have a key?" 

 

Phil's been sitting at his desk the entire time. He's finally getting the picture, he thinks, and it's not like the situation can get much worse. 

 

"So. That kiss.."

"It was really inappropriate," Clint says. "I'm sorry."

"Oh."

"I mean. Unless you liked it?"

Phil laughs nervously and Clint runs a hand through his hair. 

"God what the fuck is wrong with me?" 

"Nothing," Phil replies, and then he blinks and shakes his head at himself. “Listen, not to sound... like I’m in grade school, but do you like me?”

Clint looks trapped and guilty when he answers. “Yes? Look, if you let me use your chair for a step I can jimmy open that vent and get out of your hair.”

“Do you want to go on a date?” Phil asks, ignoring the way Clint’s wringing his hands. 

“I can -- what?”

“I don’t really do one night stands, you should know that going into this.”

Clint’s lips are still pursed like he’s going to say something else, but nothing comes out and Phil continues. 

“Unless I’ve gotten the wrong end of the stick.”

 

Clint stares at him a moment longer and then startles when they both hear, “For fucks sake!” from outside the door. It jars Clint into motion and he swipes his hand behind him to bang on the door, still looking at Phil. “Seriously?” he asks. “Like a... Like a...”

“A date,” Phil finishes. “If you want to, that is.”

 

The message finally seems to penetrate Clint’s understanding and a grin slowly spreads across his face. “A date. A... like a romantic date?”

When Phil just looks at him as if to say ‘Yes, dumbass,’ he shakes his head and then nods before laughing. “That would. Yes. Ok. Yes.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
